Petals on the River (54 page)

that you might enjoy taking a bath indoors tonight," she explained in a

nervous rush.
 
"I've taken the liberty of preparing you one, if you're

of such a mind."

A hot bath in a tub was a luxury Gage had not been able to indulge in

very often since Victoria's death.
 
He had been far too busy with work

and other things, and his nightly dips in the pond had sufficed for

cleanliness.
 
Any sensible man would find the idea of a relaxing soak in

a tub most appealing, and he considered himself such.

"And what of you, Shemaine?" he asked, hesitating.
 
" Twill take time to

heat more water.
 
Will you have to wait until a later hour before you

can take your bath?"

''There'll be enough hot water for me as soon as you're done, sir," she

answered, drawing his attention to the large cauldron that she had

brought in from outside and had placed above the fire.
 
"I didn't think

it fair that you should suffer in a cold stream while your bondslave

enjoyed so many comforts indoors." Tilting her head at a contemplative

angle, she inquired, "Might you be interested, sir?"

"Indeed!" Coming to his feet, Gage set aside the book and began

loosening the laces at the neck of his buckskin shirt.
 
"To be honest, I

wasn't looking forward to taking a cold bath outside tonight."

"I didn't think you would be," Shemaine murmured softly with a smile.

Handing him the towel, she swept a hand toward the back room and,

mimicking the deportment of a prim chambermaid, bobbed a pert curtsy.

"Everything is in readiness, m'lord."

His brown eyes glowed with warmth as he gazed down at her.
 
"You spoil

me, Shemaine."

Her lips curved upward even as she tried to hide a blush of pleasure.

"Is it not gratifying to be spoiled once in a while, sir?"

"Your very presence spoils me to distraction, Shemaine," he replied with

sudden candor.

Shemaine could only wonder if he now found her occupancy of the cabin an

impediment to his work, for he had seemed almost angry when he had left

his desk.
 
It would be a decided turnabout in her experience with men if

she were to desire to be within proximity to one who wanted nothing to

do with her.
 
Contritely she dropped her gaze to the floor, her feelings

smitten.
 
"I'm sorry, sir."

Amusement tugged at the corners of Gage's mouth as he contemplated the

bowed head.
 
"So distracting, Shemaine," he murmured, "I doubt that I

shall ever observe the subtle sway of another woman's skirts as much

I've watched yours tonight."

Shemaine's head snapped up in surprise, and she stared at him with jaw

aslack.
 
His bold gaze never wavered, and finally, in some confusion,

she breathed, "Warts off a toad."

Gage's brow arched dubiously.
 
"I think you lay too much credit to my

wit, Shemaine, and not the sobriety of my tongue."

With that, he left her and strode across the room, pulling the buckskin

shirt over his head as he went.
 
Shemaine turned, still a bit

overwhelmed by his acknowledgment, but she soon realized her mistake in

letting her eyes follow him.
 
The sight of those taut muscles flexing

and knotting beneath the smooth, bronze skin of his back was immensely

disquieting to a young woman whose passions had jUst begun to emerge

from her inner being.

Gage paused at the door and, half turning, relented to a lopsided grin.

"I don't suppose you'd consider scrubbing my back."

Shemaine had difficulty subduing a grin of her own as she imagined the

surprise he would suffer if she accepted his invitation.
 
Knowing that

he teased her, she shooed him away with a flick of a hand.
 
"Be off with

you, sir.
 
I'll be having no more of your shenanigans now. You've addled

me quite enough as it is."

Even after he had closed the door behind him, Shemaine could still hear

his chuckling laughter in the quietness of the cabin.
 
Smiling to

herself, she began putting together the dry ingredients for a batch of

biscuits that she intended making the next morning, but as she worked,

fleeting images of her master in various stages of undress began to

assail her senses once again.
 
She grew flushed and warm, while in the

depths of her being there again sprouted that strange, insatiable

longing that grew apace with her mindful meanderings, as if her young

body desperately hungered for fulfillment from that particular entity

whose face and form haunted her imaginings.

When Gage came out to the kitchen again, he was clothed in nothing more

than the buckskin breeches he had been wearing when he went in. His

long, bony feet were bare, and his black hair gleamed wetly beneath the

glow of the hanging lantern.
 
He said no word to her but went directly

to the hearth, dipped two pails into the kettle of water simmering over

the fire and carried them to the back room, where he emptied them into

the tub.
 
Returning twice more to the fireplace, he refilled the buckets

nigh to brimming each time and dumped them into the washtub as well.

Finally he came to stand before Shemaine and, with a flourish of a hand,

showed a leg in a gentlemanly bow, copying her earlier performance.

"Your bath awaits, my lady."

Shemaine settled her hands on her narrow waist and raised a skeptical

brow.
 
"So!
 
Tis your grand self doing chores for a bondslave, eh?" she

chided, but her eyes sparkled brightly, nearly mestnerizing him.
 
"As if

I couldn't empty the tub myself and fill it up again.
 
A turnabout, to

be sure, Mr.
 
Thornton."

Gage gave her a crooked grin as his eyes swept her in a way that

bestirred her senses, for he made no attempt to hide the desire

smoldering in his eyes.
 
"Have a care, Shemaine.
 
The water may be a bit

hot for a woman of such soft, fair skin, and if you scream, I will

surely come running.
 
But this time, be warned.
 
I won't be in a mood to

leave at your command."

Leaving her, he ambled leisurely across the parlor toward his bedroom,

unaware of the green eyes that devoured every graceful movement of his

slow, animal saunter.
 
Realizing that she was allowing her fascination

with the man to dominate her thoughts, Shemaine let her breath out in

slow, halting degrees and turned away.
 
Such lustful musings could well

undermine her intent to remain unscathed for the entirety of her

indentureship, especially when she was being so persistently besieged so

early in her years of service.

For a time, the night passed in wakeful silence for the adult occupants

of the cabin.
 
They lay in their separate beds, staring through the

moonlit shadows at their ceilings as they listened attentively to the

sounds that drifted from the upper story or lower bedroom.
 
A creaking

of a bed, a cough, a sigh, a muttered curse attested to the disquiet

with which each contended.
 
It was a late hour, indeed, before Shemaine

realized she lay in rigid repose upon her cot, completely alert to the

restless tossing and turning of the man downstairs.
 
Whenever she closed

her eyes, she could envision him standing beside her bed, looking down

at her with eyes glowing with desire, and then her arms would lift to

welcome him with all the hunger and passion she was capable of

exhibiting.

This will never do!
 
Shemaine rebuked herself and, with tenacious

resolve, took her wandering thoughts in tow.
 
She folded a pillow over

her ears to impede any intrusion into her concentration and began to

mentally recite a melange of poems that had become endeared to her

throughout the years.
 
By slow degrees, she lulled herself to a relaxed

drowsiness and, with a final sigh, turned on her side to drift into the

cradling arms of Morpheus.

In his lonely bed downstairs Gage could not quench the fires of lust

that beset him and denied him sleep.
 
His thoughts were filled with

tormenting visions of his bondslave lying upon her narrow couch

upstairs, her heavy braids coiling tantalizingly around her naked

breasts and her arms outstretched and beckoning to him.
 
He saw her

green eyes grow limpid with desire and her soft lips part to receive his

kiss.
 
He sensed in every fiber of his being the stirring excitement of

his manhood pressing home and her slender limbs clasping him to her. But

no satisfying release came to appease his passion, and he found himself

more agitated than ever.
 
It took a concerted effort to force his

thoughts upon a different course, a far less appealing path to be sure,

but one that eventually brought him tranquillity .
 
. .
 
and finally

restful slumber.

Desiring to set her mind to something less disturbing than the handsome

face and physique of her master, Shemaine began to ponder the two horses

which her master kept in the paddock.
 
Besides the mare that Gage had

hitched to the wagon for their trip into Newportes Newes, there was also

a rather nice-looking gelding in the corral.
 
Shemaine could think of no

better diversion for herself than teaching Andrew how to ride.
 
She

broached the subject shortly after Gage completed his morning chores and

came into the kitchen to eat.

"Can either of your horses be ridden?"' "They're both well broke to

saddle and harness," Gage replied, lifting Andrew into his high chair.

The morning meal awaited them, but he noticed that his bondslave seemed

unusually absorbed with the subject of horses.
 
"The gelding is a bit

headstrong and needs a more experienced rider, but the mare is well

behaved.
 
Why do you ask?"

Shemaine explained in a rush before she lost her nerve.
 
"I was

wondering if you might allow me to give Andrew a riding lesson after my

morning chores are done."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Gage answered, sliding onto his bench